


Tease

by toomuchplor



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-02
Updated: 2004-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/toomuchplor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey didn't find anything funnier than someone telling him he wasn't funny. He was perverse that way. </p><p>Inspired by a manip by beet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease

"Holy —" Tom stopped abruptly, looking away from the door of his trailer, feeling his blush sweeping blood up his face. "Michael, you are _not_ funny!" he shouted at the next trailer over, reaching up and ripping the photo off the door.

He heard a loud peal of laughter in reply, because Mikey didn't find anything funnier than someone telling him he wasn't funny. He was perverse that way.

And in a lot of other ways, Tom added mentally, pushing inside his trailer. He started to crumple the picture up, about to toss it into the garbage along with the dozen or so others that Michael had collected and displayed on Tom's trailer door over the past week. But for some reason, Tom's fingers wouldn't close all the way. They halted stubbornly, mid-crumple, and Tom was forced to look down at them to see why they weren't obeying.

His right hand fingers further disobeyed him, this time enlisting the help of his left hand in smoothing out and flattening the picture again.

It was obscene. The first time Michael had ever-so-thoughtfully made him aware of the things people did to his image on the internet, Tom had been torn between horror and laughter. Of course, Michael's always-spectacular timing guaranteed that this had happened in front of Jamie, and so Tom's conflicting reactions were even more difficult to navigate. Cracking a grin would earn him a disdainful glare from his wife. Looking too grossed out would offend Michael. And just _looking_ , just staring and frowning, like he was doing now —

Well, that might imply something else altogether.

The picture was obscene but strangely beautiful. Whoever had done this had some considerable talent — Tom's eyes followed the line of his own jaw, traced it down over the arched neck, and was completely unable to figure out where he stopped and the other model began. His expression in the picture made Tom smile slightly, because Tom was pretty sure he'd never looked like that during sex. Jamie always teased him because he kept his eyes closed, like he was afraid of seeing something.

Truth was, Tom was seeing something completely different behind his eyelids. He had a funny feeling that next time, the pictures he watched might be uncomfortably related to this photo he held in his hands.

Michael's fist — no, Lex's — no, some porn model's fist, really — it was driving into the mattress in this picture, betraying the calm control of Lex/Michael's expression. There was no way Michael would be like this in bed. God, the guy acted out sexual acts often enough as part of his never-ending comedy schtick that the whole cast and crew knew that Mike wasn't about quiet control. Mike was about theatrics and power and just _taking_ what he wanted.

Tom was getting kind of hard just thinking about this.

He glared at the picture again, this time focussing on his — the model's — legs, rucked up and vulnerable and open, interlocked with Mi—the other guy's legs, russet gold against silvery pale. Just faintly, between the two bellies, Tom could make out his — the model's — his —

Tom reached down and gave the real thing an appeasing stroke through his Clark Kent jeans. Michael might think it was funny to do an entire take with a hard-on, but Tom didn't have any intention of having to explain _that_ to his folks at Christmas. And Tom had maybe five minutes before someone came to call him back on set. So this had to be taken care of, now.

Tom spread the picture out on his trailer's coffee table and sat down on the couch, keeping his eyes on it as he unzipped his jeans. "Oh, fuck, Mikey," he whispered, half-furious that he was spending his ten minute break in his fourteen hour day with his dick in his hand.

The other half of him was just enjoying how _real_ the picture looked.

Tom sat back on the couch and let the hedonistic half take over control of his brain, hastily jacking himself, wasting no time. If it were him and Mikey, for real, Tom was pretty sure he'd be the one on top. God, he'd make Michael shout like Michael always shouted when he was talking about sex. Tom wouldn't close his eyes, not for a second, because he wouldn't want to miss a second of how Michael begged and writhed and jolted as Tom pounded into him, into his hot tight body, their legs locked together, Michael's cock pressed between them, live and searing and oh, god, flexing, and, yeah, coming —

The door burst open. "Tommy, gimme that picture, Allison wants to see—"

Fuck. Fuck. Tom's hand was full of come and if he jumped up like he wanted to, Clark Kent's flannel shirt would have come on it and wouldn't _that_ be a fun conversation with the director, and _fuck_ , Michael was just — staring.

Tom schooled his face into mildly embarrassed calm. "Help me out here?" he asked blandly, nodding towards the tissue box on the table. "And you might want to knock next time." There, that was good. Sound pissed. Tom didn't often use his Celebrity Prince voice, but it had its uses. Even Michael reacted when Tom talked in that voice. Later, Tom would mutter something about not seeing much of Jamie lately, and Michael would rag him about it in front of everyone, but Michael wouldn't be too specific, because all loudmouth performing aside, he was a good guy.

Unfortunately, when Michael reached for the tissues, he caught sight of the picture which was still lying on the coffee table — Tom had forgotten it was there. Michael froze, hand halfway to the tissue box.

Tom wanted to rewind and kick the goddamn thing to the floor before Mikey got a chance to see it, but now it was too late. Michael looked up and met Tom's gaze, slowly, but he didn't smile. And Michael without a smile, especially in such a moment, was absolutely, skin-crawlingly eerie.

Michael stood up again and walked around the table to stand in front of Tom. Tom's hand was still outstretched, still cupping a puddle of come, still unable to move for fear of the wardrobe girl's wrath. So Michael got down on his knees and licked Tom's hand clean.

Tom nearly came again right there — his eyelids fluttered shut, because that was how Tom looked during sex, and yeah. This was sex.

Michael was kissing Tom and he tasted like Tom and he was straddling Tom's lap. He was absolutely silent, but Tom could feel that he was hard through Lex Luthor's expensive pants. Michael cupped the back of Tom's head and kissed him long and dirtily, until Tom was groaning and thrusting his hips up into the V of Michael's parted legs. "Oh, Mikey, fuck," Tom sighed, his mind trying to be anywhere but in this moment. "I gotta be on set in, like, three seconds."

Michael backed away and Tom opened his eyes, even though he was scared to see what he was doing to Michael. And it was a bit scary — Michael was still unsmiling, his eyes blue and intense as Lex on his horniest day, and he was licking his lips as though trying to recapture some of Tom's taste. 

"So...you liked the picture," Michael said. "I'm assuming this was some sort of applause," he continued when Tom only blinked and looked away, embarrassed. "I like a guy who's not afraid to masturbate instead of giving a standing ovation."

"You're making fun of me," Tom said, unable to stop the wounded tone from colouring his voice, even as he wondered what the hell was going on in his brain today.

"Every time I get a chance, if it gets this kind of results," Michael grinned wolfishly, bending in to kiss Tom one last time before Clark had to go and save the world again.

And Tom, opening his eyes to watch Michael kiss him, guessed he could be okay with that too.


End file.
